


Midnight Conversations

by Rayawastaken



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bisexual Claude von Riegan, But also, Byleth just has Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Claude has trust issues, Divine Pulse (Fire Emblem), F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gen, I wrote this with intention of Byleth being nonbinary, Implied Hilda/Marianne, M/M, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Time Skip, Temporary Character Death, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, but you can read them as male/female as well if you wanna bc, implied Sylvain/Felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayawastaken/pseuds/Rayawastaken
Summary: Character study centered around the way Byleth deals (or doesn't) with the aftermath of using the Divine Pulse. Because you can't see your friends die on a regular basis and not be some sort of fucked up about it.Set in Golden Deer route, post time-skip. Some light spoilers but it's mostly just Claude and Byleth talking about Emotions.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Byleth's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night

Byleth's eyes swept over the maps assorted on the table once again. The intel Shamir's spies had managed to gather was scarce, which was somewhat expected. After all, it wasn't every day that someone tried to storm Fort Merceus, and certainly not with as little tactical experience as Byleth. They were proficient at leading their house members, sure, but this was the fabled _Impregnable Fortress_ for goddess' sake.

The meeting concerning the Alliance's siege of Fort Merceus had been, frankly, rather fruitless. It mostly consisted of Lorenz arguing the futility - not to mention absurdity - of this whole endeavor, followed up by his usual spiel about their leader's incompetence. And, well... Byleth couldn't really disagree. Judging by the grim atmosphere in the war room, the rest of the Golden Deer couldn't either.

To Claude's credit, he remained composed throughout the entire two-hour meeting, his confidence never wavering.

"For the last time Lorenz, I have a plan! It just needs a little... polishing up, so to speak. You'll all have to trust me on this."

And Byleth did. They really, really did. Otherwise they wouldn't have agreed to help Claude with his seemingly unreal ambition in the first place. Truly, going back to their old life as a mercenary responsible just for themselves rather than the fate of an entire continent seemed lovely right about now. Still, when Lorenz began to rise up in his seat, unmistakably about to start another argument, they spoke up, voice quiet but firm:

"How about we finish this tomorrow. There are still three days left before we move out and it is late. I think we all could use a good night's sleep before continuing this conversation."

"Works for me!" Hilda chirped before practically running out of the room with a quick "goodnight". The rest stayed put but it was clear that they too weren't opposed to the idea of leaving.

Claude sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. "Well, you've all heard Teach. Dismissed."

After that, the war room gradually emptied as people left with varying levels of enthusiasm. Eventually, it was just Claude and Byleth sitting in silence until he too rose and moved to the door with one last strained smile sent their way. "Get some sleep, my friend."

Byleth nodded absentmindedly, their pale eyes set on the maps strewn across the table. Yes, that would probably be wise.

But then again, Byleth had never claimed to be particularly wise, as far as their self-preservation was concerned. They spent the next few hours scribbling different strategies in their notebook, writing down notes and pointers on the margins and trying to predict enemy positioning. Claude would get them inside the Fortress. They had to make sure they'll be prepared for what comes after.

They would not allow for another Battle at Gronder.

~***~

Byleth parried a strike aimed at their chest and let their own weapon sink into the soldier's abdomen. The body fell on the ground with a thud, the last signs of life disappearing from the man's eyes. In his place appeared another two and Byleth could see even more troops heading in the direction of their flimsy formation.

The Alliance forces were scattered on the battlefield and slowly getting overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of their opponents. Byleth and their former students were gathered in a loose circle somewhere in the middle of Fort Merceus, trying their best to fight off the assault coming from all around them. Marianne was putting everything she had into healing anyone who has been injured, and although she would never admit it, Byleth could tell she was approaching her limit. Even if that wasn't the case, it wouldn't be long now before their formation was broken.

Sword of the Creator unfurled into its full length and Byleth swung it like a whip at the incoming enemies. Their mind worked overtime, focusing on finding an escape route, or some sort of revolutionary strategy, or any way they could all come out of this situation alive.

A sudden scream resounded amidst the constant noise of metal hitting metal. Byleth felt their stomach drop upon recognizing the voice.

"Lysithea!" They saw Raphael dashing towards his fallen friend, practically running over any soldiers standing in his path. From where they stood, Byleth had a disturbingly clear view of the spear protruding from her body.

And Byleth had experience with death, saw people they've grown to call friends - _family_ \- fall in battle enough times to understand that Lysithea was not getting back up. It was scary, almost - how fast their mind could move on from the reality of a loved one's death to the now-familiar notion of Divine Pulse. They haven't needed Sothis' help with using it for a while now. Not that it mattered much. The voice in their head had long since been gone.

The world around them stilled and shattered, like a mirror hitting the ground, jagged pieces of the scene before them losing clarity. The colors faded and it was hard to make sense of what exactly one was looking at. Even the vibrant red stain on Lysithea's robe was turned into another indistinguishable, faded splotch. Still, Byleth willed themselves to focus as the time slowly changed its flow and they saw what had just transpired once again, this time in reverse. Lysithea falling. A single soldier, thrusting a spear in an attack. A _Fire_ glyph appearing in front of her outstretched hand (not fast enough, the spell won't have time to manifest, _he's going to kill her_ ).

The time came to an abrupt stop before starting its proper flow again, the sensation similar to breaching the surface of the water after a deep dive. Byleth ignored the expected wave of nausea and abandoned the two opponents they've been facing, the patterns for _Bolganone_ already appearing in the air. Byleth launched the spell in the direction that they _knew_ Lysithea's attacker would be at this exact moment.

And then watched in horror as it was met with a magical barrier, just a few meters shy of its original target.

Byleth felt their entire body stiffen. They've been in this situation before... they knew the man that appeared once the remnants of the spell disappeared and the shield flickered out of existence.

Well, calling him a man was a bit of an exaggeration. This creature with white skin and white hair, clad in black robes and just _radiating_ power. The same one that stopped them from saving Jeralt. That somehow was not only aware of their ability to reverse time but also _when_ Byleth used it.

"Ah, and here I thought you would have learned by now, Fell Star." His face twisted in the same, cruel smile he gave them on the day their father died. Behind him, a scream they had already heard sounded again.

"Lysithea!"

Byleth gritted their teeth, grip on Sword of the Creator tightening. It was fine. They were stronger now - they'd go back, buy themselves more time and fight this thing _properly_. And after that, they will save Lysithea. They willed the time to stop-

~***~

When they breached again the scene that greeted them was different. Instead of a full-blown war zone inside Fort Merceus' walls, Byleth was met with the calm expanses of the forest near Garreg Mach. Or, to be more specific, the place where the old chapel had once stood, before it was destroyed by demonic beasts which appeared out of the blue at the monastery all those years ago.

Divine Pulse left them in momentary confusion, but as Byleth regained their senses, they realized where, or rather _when_ , they were.

The sight of Kronya plunging a dagger into Jeralt's back was a familiar one at this point. They had seen it six times before their strength ran out and they couldn't jump back again. Every attempt at fighting the man preventing them from saving their father had proved more pitiful than the last. The bastard wouldn't even attack back. He simply put up a shield and watched Byleth's futile attempts with something akin to amusement on his colorless face. Their fifth rewind rendered them useless, all their strength gone in a last desperate try to _fix_ this. They could barely crawl their way towards Jerald's body, once the stranger disappeared with Kronya.

That was over 6 years ago. When Byleth's hair and eyes were a darker hue, and there was a voice in their head that tried to mask concern with frustration.

Now their hair was pale and there was determination in their eyes and Byleth wielded the sword in their hands with experience they had lacked before.  
They steeled themselves, sights set on their target. It will be different this time. They'll rewind, and they'll fight, and they'll _win_.

~***~

Another rewind. Another change of scenery. Byleth remembered their battle with Almyran forces in Fódlan's Locket. Soldiers that fought simply to fight even if it meant death. Cyril, grim-faced as he cut down the people from his homeland.

And Hilda, commanding the troops in her brother's stead. Hilda, all smiles and confidence in front of the soldiers, even when Byleth knew she hated people depending on her - hated expectations, because she didn't think herself enough to rise up to them. Hilda who once told them she didn't understand how some people were ready to give their life to save someone else's. Hilda, jumping in front of Marianne, taking a lethal axe swing to the side, one that wasn't meant for her.  
And ultimately, it wouldn't strike. They wouldn't let it. Byleth took a deep breath, focused, and the reality shattered-

~***~

Raphael running in their direction with Ignatz in his arms. Byleth smelled burnt flesh even before they saw the awful scorch marks all over the smaller boy's body.

"He was just trying to protect the merchants," Raphael explained, and they could see he was trying his best to remain calm. "There was a mage, and, and no one else there but Ignatz, and he managed to shoot him, but didn't dodge in time and..."

Byleth pumped one healing spell into the burns after another but could already tell it wouldn't be enough. They didn't possess the expertise necessary to treat those kind of injuries.

"He's... he's going to be okay, right Professor? Iggy's gonna be fine! Right?" Raphael asked, and he looked so hopeful, so sure about his teacher's ability to just _make_ everything alright.

Byleth swallowed. "Of course," They said, plastering what they hoped was a reassuring smile on their face. "I'm going to make sure Ignatz is okay."

Byleth watched as her student smiled with relief and then made sure they kept their promise.

~***~

Sylvain lying in Felix's lap, his armor stained with blood. His face was wet with tears and as Byleth came closer to the two of them, they realized they were Felix's.

"You idiot, don't you dare die. You made me a promise, you hear!?"

Byleth felt their heart clench. They will fix this, it's fine, it's _going_ to be fine. They just have to muster a bit more strength, just change their strategy. They closed their eyes, tried not to hear Felix's sobbing as they forced the time to change its course.

~***~

Claude unmoving on the ground next to his wyvern. Limbs twisted in odd ways, blood pooling under his cooling body. Byleth forced themselves to come closer, to check for a pulse with trembling hands. They looked into Claude's eyes, searched for any signs of life and were met with nothing. The same empty stare every other corpse had.

Byleth felt sick. Whether it was from the sight or the numerous uses of Divine Pulse, they weren't sure anymore. And they were so tired. Their entire body trembled and it was getting harder and harder to think clearly. Still, they had to try. As long as they were alive, they'd make sure those they cherished would be as well.

Just one more rewind. One more chance. They will fix this. They will fix this. _They will fix this_. _They will fix this_. **_They will fi-_**

~***~

Byleth startled awake with a gasp.

They heaved one shaky breath after another, head propped on their hands which rested on the table. The table in the war room. The war room in Garreg Mach. Where all of their students were safe within their respective quarters. Right.

Byleth sat there for a couple more minutes, trying to calm down. The nightmares weren't anything new. They should be able to deal with them better after such a long time, really. They took in a large breath, leaned against the back of the chair, closed their eyes...

And immediately opened them again when they were met with the sight of Claude's dead stare boring into them.

Byleth fisted their hands in their hair and pulled, wishing the pain to dull the cruel memory. Not for the first time they missed the somewhat-irritating-yet-still-reassuring voice that had once haunted their thoughts. Byleth was sure it would prove to be a great distraction right now.

But Sothis was gone and the only nagging thoughts in their head were of their own mind's doing. And so, camomile tea would have to be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be much shorter but Claude kept talking, and who am I to stop him?

The usually bustling kitchen was eerily silent at this time. Byleth didn't mind. It was the exact kind of peace and quiet that they needed.

They put the kettle on and rummaged through the tea cabinet while waiting for the water to boil. Their nose was pleasantly swarmed by a plethora of different smells. Byleth breathed them all in and let the familiar scent calm their troubled mind. As the war raged on they had fewer and fewer opportunities to invite their students to tea parties... Something they ought to find more time for, Byleth decided as they plucked the camomile packet from its place in the drawer. They'd have to stock up on this brand soon. 

Camomile... Dimitri liked it. He had told Byleth once, that while he could not taste it, the beverage tended to calm him.

Soon they were sitting at one of the long tables with their legs tucked underneath them and a big cup of hot tea warming their hands. Byleth watched the steam rise from the liquid and breathed. They focused on the pleasant smell, the way their chest expanded with every intake. The warmth spread through their fingers, chasing away the chill of the night. They breathed out.

Dimitri liked camomile. 

Byleth ought to plant some at his grave. Perhaps it would bring him some peace in death, as it ultimately failed to do so in life. Gronder Field was a testament to that fact.

Gronder Field... Bernadetta fought there. She also died there. The battlefield was too erratic for Byleth to spare any time on trying to persuade the enemy into committing treason for a teacher she had known some 5 years ago. That fact didn't make her death any easier to bear.

They wondered if any of their old students would be stationed at Fort Merceus. Hubert appeared among the Empire forces rather frequently, but Byleth had no doubts in their mind about ever getting Edelgard's right hand to join the Alliance. But according to Shamir's intel, Ferdinand still lived and there was a high chance Byleth would soon see him again. They simply hoped the two of them walked out of that encounter alive.

Byleth's grim thought process was suddenly interrupted when they heard footsteps approaching from behind them. Their body went taut momentarily, but in the night's quiet, it was easy to identify the owner. Careful, soft movements even with the short heel of his boots.

_"I have always wondered; why the heeled boots? Seems awfully inconvenient in combat. Especially for an archer."_

_"It's something of a... personal preference. And it never hindered my performance in battle. Besides, if there's anybody who deserves to be asked_ this _particular question, it's Edelgard. I have no idea how she manages to fight in those damned things."_

_"...is it because you're short?"_

_"What? I- No. I'm not- I'm not that short-"_

_"You_ are _shorter than me."_

_"I'm also_ younger than you _."_

_"Dimitri is your age. And so is Dedue. And Raphael. And_ Lorenz _."_

_"In a couple of years those two inches between us are going to disappear and you will be sorry, my friend. I'll have_ no mercy"

_"..."_

_"Well? Anything to say that would free you of your inevitable demise?"_

_"...It's three inches without the heels."_

The footsteps stopped abruptly, close to where the entrance was located. Byleth relaxed and took a sip of their tea. It was lukewarm at this point. They hadn't realized how long they've been here already.

"Teach?"

Byleth listened to the approaching _click-clack_ as Claude stepped closer to them. They felt the bench shift as he maneuvered himself to sit down next to them, just a breath shy of touching.

"Claude," goddess, they sounded tired. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Byleth kept their gaze firmly on the cup and its contents. There was a small part of their brain that was scared Claude's eyes would be lifeless, just like in the dream. Perhaps the two of them could end this conversation sooner rather than later and Claude would go on to do whatever business he had to take care of in the dead of the night. (They would have suspected that he was on his way to the library, once. Today... they were not so sure).

"You know, I could ask you the same question, my friend. You don't look too good."

"I have a lot on my mind," they answered neutrally. "But I'm fine." Probably. "What about you? What's keeping you awake?"

"You haven't really answered my question," he countered and Byleth could easily imagine the smug smile plastered on his face. They didn't, for the fear of the mental image turning into something morbid.

"You haven't answered mine, either. And I _did_ ask you first." 

"Well, let's make it fair by saying that I, too have had a lot on my mind lately."

Byleth frowned but said nothing. Instead, they pushed their half-empty cup in Claude's direction.

"Camomile. Good for stress. I'll brew some almyran needles." 

He hummed a quiet _thanks_ and Byleth moved to boil the water again. 

Once they both had a steaming cup in their hands Byketh sat down again. They still weren't looking at Claude but he was close enough that they could tell he was tense. The silence stretched between them but Byleth didn't mind. They were familiar with it, learned that sometimes all it took for someone to open up was a bit of patience. 

Still, the minutes went by and Claude remained quiet. Byleth risked a glance in his direction.

He looked, well, the way Byleth felt. Bone-deep tired and lost in thought, staring down at his tea. There were bags under his eyes and his hair fell into his eyes. They realized that except for the boots, he wasn't in his regalia anymore. Instead, he wore a loose white shirt, unlaced at his chest, and a pair of black pants. If not for how stiffly he held himself, Byleth would say he looked uncharacteristically unguarded.

Claude looked up and they quickly averted their gaze. Broken limbs and a pool of blood. Dead, unseeing eyes that bore a stark resemblance to the expression they saw just a moment ago-

"Teach, I-" Claude spoke, interrupting their spiraling thoughts. "-I understand that I might not look like the fearless, awe-inspiring leader I'm supposed to be right now. But I swear to you that I'll get us into Fort Merceus. And then I will get us out. I just need you to trust me here."

"What," Byleth blurted, turning to face him again. Claude's expression was somewhere between pained and determined and they suddenly felt very confused because "I do trust you."

"Oh?" he smiled, but it looked strained. "Is that why you haven't looked me in the eye this entire time? Because of how much you 'trust me'?"

Byleth huffed, feeling frustration flare in their chest. "That's not- It isn't like that. I trust you, Claude." They forced their eyes to meet his as they said it. Even though it made them terrified, Byleth reached up to grip Claude's arm and felt almost dizzy with relief when their fingers met warm skin. Nothing like the coolness of a corpse.

He met their stubborn gaze and gritted his teeth, any traces of a smile disappearing. "Why? Because I've been trying to figure that one out for a long time now, Teach," Claude slid out of their grip and started to count out frustratedly:

"You have no ties to the Alliance, so it winning the war means nothing to you. The same goes for unifying Fódlan and Almyra. I _know_ the only reason you're interested in finding Rhea is that it would mean you'd be relieved of the archbishop status, which you hate. And any money you manage to get you immediately spend on equipment for the troops, so you're not in it for the money either." He spread his hands, looking at Byleth helplessly.

"You have no reason to support me, and at this point, _you_ of all people should know I'm not exactly a trustworthy character."

Byleth stared at Claude, dumbfounded. It wasn't often that he let his emotions take control. In fact, Byleth couldn't remember it ever happening.

But right now he was looking at them as though he was sure Byleth was about to tell him that he's wrong. That there was some ulterior motive in their actions all along and Claude simply failed to notice. As though the scraps of information he had told them about himself would eventually lead to Byleth figuring out he's a lost cause and leaving.

Alright. They'll just have to be as straightforward here as humanly possible. Leave no room for Claude to have any more doubts about this.

"You're overthinking this. It's correct that I don't fight this war for money, or power, or because I favor the Alliance." Byleth leveled him with a stern gaze. "I fight for my family."

Claude frowned at that. "Jeralt's dead."

"I know," They answered with a sad smile. "But you're not." 

He breathed in sharply but didn't say anything so Byleth continued: "Neither is Hilda, or Ignatz, or Ashe, or any of my Deers at Garreg Mach. And although Dimitri and Bernadetta I couldn't save, I still fight for their memory."

Claude watched them closely as they spoke and Byleth knew he was looking for any signs that would indicate they were lying. They simply sat there, looking back.

He seemed satisfied with Byleth's words, however. They watched as some of the tension slowly bled from his body. 

"Alright, let's say I buy your altruistic talk for now," he didn't, at least not fully. "But that still leaves the question of why you wouldn't look at me."

They frowned. The thing was, if they tell the truth, Claude will worry. If they lie and say it was nothing, he was bound to start coming up with his own theories again. And while the tendency to overanalyze worked in his favor most of the time, when it came to Byleth, it seemed to do more harm than good. 

"It's just... a minor inconvenience."

Claude's eyebrows flew to his hairline. "A minor inconvenience that keeps the fabled Ashen Demon up at night?"

Byleth gave him an unimpressed look. "You know I hate that name," they huffed. 

"You're changing the topic."

"Have you considered it's because I don't want to answer the question?"

"Yes, and yet I insist that you do."

"Even if I did, there's nothing you can do to help. What's the point in dragging you into something that's my problem?"

"The point-" Claude sighed, moving so that the bench was between his legs and he could face them better. "-is that I worry about you." 

"Yes, I do believe you made that clear just a moment before." 

"Not- not like that. Well, yes, also like that but that's because I put so much trust in you that it kind of scares me," he smiled at them shakily. "I don't rely on people unless I know what makes them tick. And you, my friend, are one piece of complicated clockwork."

"Then why _do_ you trust me, Claude?" Byleth was stalling. They were also curious but knew better than to pry information out of those unwilling to share it. Which is to say, _usually_ they knew better. Right now they were stalling.

"I'm... not so sure, to be honest. You're the most mysterious person I've ever met. And yet, I find myself relying on you as a friend, not just- a _resource_." Claude reached for Byleth's hand which was still wrapped around the tea cup. They only noticed they've been holding it in a death-grip once he gently pried their fingers off. He covered their hand in both of his and squeezed once.

"I just want you to know you can rely on me as well."

Byleth felt their heart speed up and tried to stop their hands from shaking. Claude was trying to look them in the eye again and there was so much fondness mixed with concern in his stare they felt a little sick. "You need a strong commander right now. Someone to inspire the people. Not a person who's a breath away from a mental breakdown."

"Everyone has their limit. Even you, Teach." Claude's thumb moved across their knuckles in a calm, steady motion. Byleth closed their eyes and moved their other hand to check the pulse in his wrist. Knew better than to assume Claude wouldn't catch on, and they almost wished he would so that they'd be spared from explaining. 

"It's complicated."

"Most things that have to do with you are." he hummed, not unkindly. "We have time."

Byleth took a deep breath. Where could they even begin with this? There was no way they were telling anybody, even Claude, about Sothis. And Byleth was too tired to explain that they could literally reverse time. Not to mention Claude wouldn't take 'I just woke up one day and could do it' as an acceptable answer as to why they could do it in the first place.

The pulse under their fingers thrummed reassuringly. "Ever since Jeralt had died, I've been having nightmares. Nothing too bad, at first. But they got less... manageable over time. More vivid, to the point I sometimes question what is real and what is not. And recently, after our battle at Gronder Field- they don't feel like dreams anymore. I remember them as though they are memories, even if they never actually happened." They didn't. They didn't because they made sure of it personally. 

"Those dreams-" Byleth cracked one eye open to study Claude's thoughtful expression. They could almost see the gears turning in his head. "-what are they about?"

They sighed and slowly lowered their forehead to rest on Claude's shoulder. He hummed reassuringly and moved one of his hands to their back, leaving the other in Byleth's grip.

"Just..." The smell of scorched flesh. "They're like worst-case scenarios of what would have happened if I hadn't been strong enough-" a dagger stabbed into their father's back, "-or fast enough-" red stain slowly spreading on Lysithea's robe, "-or, or hadn't considered certain possibilities-" twisted limbs and a dead stare and cold skin, all wrong, _wrong_ , **_wrong-_**

Byleth forced themselves to stop before spiraling any further down that thought process. They focused instead on Claude’s pulse under their fingers, on the warmth of his body, the way his every exhale ghosted over their hair.

“Teach?” he asked after Byleth stayed quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-,” they sighed in frustration before worming their way out of Claude’s hold and messaging their temples. “I see my friends die. But it never happened. I stopped it time and time again so why- why can’t I just forget?” They looked at Claude and couldn’t quite keep the note of desperation out of their voice. “You’re right in front of me, alive, and yet every time I close my eyes I see you, dying or already dead and I can do nothing to stop it. I have the fate of an entire continent resting on my shoulders, I can’t let myself be bothered by something so foolish as, as-”

“Emotions?” Claude asked, a bit incredulous.

Byleth sent him an unimpressed glare, although they imagined it looked more resigned with how tired they felt, “You know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m just teasing ya,” he smiled apologetically before moving closer to bump his shoulder into theirs. Byleth welcomed the touch at their side and let themselves lean on Claude. “And it seems like you’ve also been overthinking things.”

“I’m doing the exact opposite. I’m actively trying _not to_ think about any of this.”

“Oh? By holing yourself up in the war room and coming up with strategies for hours on end?”

“Exactly. I’m strategizing how to _not_ get us killed.”

“But the ‘get us killed’ part is still somewhere in there,” Claude put his arms on their shoulders so that they’d look him in the eyes. Byleth did and felt something clench in their chest at the worry they saw there..

“You need a break, Byleth.”

Their eyes narrowed and any softness unveiled by the late hour and familiar company immediately turned into sharp edges of the impassive commander. The words that left their mouth were laced with barely contained anger. “I’m in the middle of a war. People depend on me. The entire continent expects me to act as an archbishop of the greatest religious power of Fódlan. I can’t afford _breaks_ ," they spat. "I thought that you of all people would understand that.”

“I do. But you seem to have forgotten a very important lesson that you yourself taught me, friend.”

“And what would that be?”

“That there are people who are willing to help you.”

Byleth physically recoiled at that but Claude’s arms kept them rooted in place, “Yes, but- everybody already has so much on their heads and I- They don’t need _this_ as well. I’m supposed to protect you all, not make you worry even more-”

“Byleth, we may still call you Professor but we’re not your students anymore. You did so much for everybody at the monastery, but you never let anybody help _you_.” 

“There is nothing that can be _done_ to help. I’m just being stupid, letting myself be bothered by such thoughts-”

“You’re not being stupid, you’re overworking yourself. And there are a lot of ways to make those thoughts less of a nuisance, I assure you.” 

Byleth watched him, thoroughly unconvinced, “Uh-huh.”

“Teach, I’m serious. Surely, Jeralt must have told you something about dealing with trauma after killing, and battle and…” Claude cut off seeing Byleth’s confused expression. “...Right?”

“Well, he did try but... I never needed any of it. I wasn’t an emotional child. Father always told me we could discuss anything I wanted, that if I was upset by anything I simply had to tell him… but I don’t remember ever feeling upset, or sad, or conflicted,” Byleth shrugged neutrally. “Don’t remember feeling much of anything from before coming to Garreg Mach, to be honest.”

"That-" Claude said, pointing a single finger at them, almost accusingly, "-is a topic we're going to return to some _other_ time."

"I don't doubt that," they murmured, swatting his hand away before asking, "What sort of miraculous solutions did you have in mind, then?"

"There's nothing 'miraculous' about basic self-care, Teach. Spend more time with people at the monastery. Spar with Felix. Go shopping with Hilda. Let Ashe cook you a meal. _Go fishing with Flayn_. When you do work over strategies again, let me, or at least - and I can't believe I'm saying this - _Lorenz_ help. And get enough sleep at night."

"Alright, you can't lecture me on _that_ ," Byleth scoffed and it was their turn to point an accusatory finger at Claude. "I know for a fact your sleep schedule is no better than mine."

"Well, perhaps, but _I_ don't get extremely vivid nightmares because of it," he replied, smiling smugly.

"Yes, but I _do_. Which is exactly why I don't like the idea of falling asleep as of late."

"And you’re not the only one. Marianne used to have problems with it too, y’know.”

Byleth felt worry spark in their chest at that, “She did? I… I never knew.”

“Well, you had no way to. It started shortly after the war began and you literally fell from the face of the earth.” 

The way Claude said it would sound almost casual if Byleth didn’t know how much the mystery of their disappearance still bothered him.

_“For the last time Claude, I don’t know how I managed to survive the fall. I have no idea why it took me so long to wake up either. That won’t change no matter how many times you ask me.”_

_“All I’m saying is that if we don’t know what caused it, we have no way to prevent it from happening again. I can’t afford to lose you for another goddess-only-knows how many years! The Alliance won’t survive it.”_

_“Right. I forgot I’m a major pawn on von Riegan’s chessboard of a war.”_

_“C’mon Teach, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”_

_“So you’ve_ never _had any intentions of using me in order to get what you want?”_

_“Well, that’s not_ entirely _untrue, but it isn’t the only reason- ”_

_“I will see you tomorrow, Claude.”_

“Right,” Byleth replied neutrally. “But she doesn’t now?”

“Nope. Manuela prescribed her some herbs that helped. I bet she’d have something for you as well if you asked. Or if you don’t feel like having a full medical check-up just go straight to Marianne.”

Byleth frowned, “That’s it? I’m supposed to talk to people and eat some weeds?”

“I mean, that’s pretty much the gist of it, yes.”

Byleth stared at Claude trying to figure out if he’s being serious. After a couple of seconds of him not bursting into laughter they decided that this wasn’t, in fact, a very convoluted joke. They turned away from him to prop their elbows on the table. Byleth’s head connected with its surface with a quiet _thud_ , their hair pooling around them. When they spoke next their voice came out muffled.

“That’s bullshit, Claude.”

They heard a sigh and then a calloused hand was moving their hair away to reveal Byleth’s sullen expression. Claude’s face filled their vision. Not for the first time, Byleth wished they could read him better, or that he at least didn’t make it so hard in the first place.

“I’ll admit this probably won’t make the nightmares completely disappear. But it might help. Isn’t it better than just waiting and hoping it’ll go away on its own?” He smiled at them encouragingly. It just made the tiredness in his eyes more prominent. 

“I suppose so,” Byleth hummed noncommittally. They heaved themselves back up to a somewhat vertical but still slouched position.

“Promise me you’ll at least try.”

Byleth looked at him, trying to gauge whether the concern on Claude’s face was artificial or not. 

“I promise,” they sighed finally. “Either way, you don’t have to worry. I haven’t let this affect my performance as a commander and I don’t intend to.”

But Claude didn’t look satisfied with their words; if anything he looked more concerned. 

“That’s- that is not what I’m worried about. Your performance, I mean.”

Byleth watched him struggle for words.

“What is it then?” they pried when the answer wouldn’t come after some time.

Claude huffed, frustrated. He raked a hand through his hair in what Byleth realized with some surprise was a nervous tick.

“I’m not the best at this, alright?” he laughed somewhat anxiously.

Byleth raised a single, questioning eyebrow. “What, Honesty? Talking about emotions? Being vulnerable?” They smirked, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“You know what? That’s fair, I deserve that,” Claude frowned. “But I’m trying. All the things you’ve mentioned- I haven’t had a lot of opportunities in the past to practice all of that. Not a lot of people who would have appreciated them, I’m afraid.”

They hummed in understanding, their eyes softening. “Do I seem like one of those people?”

That earned Byleth a small smile, “No. Which is why I want to make sure you understand that when I said earlier that you’re not just a resource to me, I meant it. That I worry because I care about you. Just… you, not the Alliance or the war or the church.”

“...That’s not how you always felt, though.”

Claude averted his gaze from theirs, looking guilty. “No. But it is how I feel now, if you can believe me.”

Byleth reached up to cup his cheek in their hand, fingertips tangling in the mess of brown curls. They lifted his face back up so that they could look Claude in the eyes. He looked back at them with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence.

“I do. And if I remember correctly, you also said you trust me,” Byleth inched closer, until their forehead rested against his. Claude heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“So you can trust me with whatever this is as well.”

“You’re a good thing in my life. And they don’t usually stay. I keep expecting you to disappear again.”

“I won’t,” they reassure, desperately wanting it to be true. “Not if I can help it.”

“Still, we’re at war. Any promises I’d be making you right now would be empty. I don’t want to entangle you in yet another crazy pipe dream of mine.” 

“I don’t mind. There’s a method to your madness,” they hummed fondly. “Ending the war is just a matter of time. If you can’t say it right now, it’s alright.” Byleth planted a kiss at the corner of Claude’s mouth. Felt him inhale softly.

“I’m patient.”

And with that, they slowly moved their face away. Byleth let their hand linger for a couple more seconds before withdrawing their hand as well and stood up.

“I’ll go check if Manuela’s still up. Ask for the sleep herbs.”

“Right,” Claude answered, still staring at the place where Byleth was sitting just a few seconds ago.

They nodded at him and made their way towards the dining hall’s exit. “Goodnight, Claude.”

Byleth left the room, leaving the Leicester Alliance’s leader looking blankly at the two forgotten tea cups sitting on the table, still half-full. He slowly lifted one hand to his face, where Byleth's lips had been. He smiled, small and private. Behind him, the night sky started to melt into a brand new morning.

“‘Night, Teach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my self-indulgent writing. If there was any noticeable language weirdness I apologize, I'm not a native eng speaker :x
> 
> If the quarantine stretches any longer I might write more, maybe a short continuation to this, or maybe something cindered shadows centric bc the dlc got me into starting Edel's route, finally. 
> 
> Stay safe and practice social distancing my dudes! Wishing y'all the best

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: 4k words of Talking


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